Hanging On
by White Shade
Summary: Just a one shot with two of my favorite reapers written within a second person narrative, abnormal to my usual writings. Enjoy!


A/N: I seldom write in this fashion and POV, but if any would like to see more, let me know in a review or a PM. This was just a quick one-shot I put together at the last minute. I admit if I had the time, more of these would be produced and at a higher quality.

**Hanging On**

It's after midnight. You have already punched out for the day, though I have a feeling I know exactly where I can find you. You're out and about the city, probably running atop London's grandest estates. Yes, that's where I can always find you. It isn't hard for me, finding you. Every day, you punch in, perform your duties at the bare minimum, you punch out, and I still sit in my office, reviewing your reports. Perhaps I know you too well for my own good; but, as I must do every day, my emotions are suppressed. I could never say such a thing. No, not to you. Ever.

Each night, when I can finally punch out of the office, after overtime and the usual records, I can finally return home. Once I do, it seems I cannot stop thinking about you. From the moment I was promoted into my position of higher praise, you never ceased addressing me on a first name basis. This of course annoyed me for some time, but I have begun to notice even my own faults. No one else would ever get away with this today, or any other day. Only you are allowed, and sometimes just barely, to call me by my first name.

In the back alleyway, I sense another at work, but I feel like paying no mind to him at the moment. For the first time in a week, I sit myself on the sofa and remove my spectacles, wiping the accumulated sweat on my brow. The silence is enough to overwhelm me, but I can never fully enjoy it. Disturbingly, I can only relax for a little while because then, my mind begins to think about work. When I am not thinking about work, most likely, I am thinking about you.

You are the only other subject that's ever crossed me in my entire life, and you were practically forced upon me. A part of me hates to see you in the position you are, but another part of me senses you are satisfied with your work status. Either that, or you were never concerned with it in the first place.

A sigh escapes my lips, and I pour myself a cup of hot tea in hopes to get some rest, but I cannot sleep. Today, you were obsessed with _him_ again. As annoying as you are to listen to, it's also near impossible to ignore you. Perhaps you're out looking for him, trying to capture his attention. I hardly believed you to be one to stoop to such a level as him. Yes, you never cease to amaze me, in both a negative and positive way.

Without any emotional release at work, I am forced to regale in my after hours. It can become most painful at times, but as per usual, I do my best to deter from feeling much of anything. If I had to deal with every emotion my system produced in a single day, I would simply be unproductive, and that is not acceptable beyond my own standards.

There is a draft that hits my shoulders, and it is most unnatural. I don not recall leaving a window open to my flat. I open my bedroom door, and to my shock, you are there. You are sleeping within my covers, your spectacles still upon your face, as though you were waiting for me.

I remember now. I'd given you the keys to my apartment only once, and I've told myself I've regretted that decision ever since, yet I never had the heart to change the locks or kick you out of a place other than my office. You are peaceful, and my eyes are narrow, partially because I am passed the point of exhaustion. I remove your spectacles, but again, I sense something is incorrect.

You are sleeping on the right side of the bed; that's my side, always.

Still, I am genuinely surprised. If you weren't chasing after _him_, I suspected you to be at Reaper Knox's party, not here. You stopped coming by after I yelled at you concerning that death scythe of yours. You were pissed about that, a lot, and I admit that I regret the manner in which I scolded you. I always do, and every day, I must pretend I don't care because that is my job, not to care. Every once in a great while though, it honestly almost kills me a little inside.

Seeing you lay there, I remove your spectacles and lay them on the nightside table. Your body stirs at even the slightest movement and my actions are no exception. As your bright eyes slit open, I can see you're still half asleep. I inform you that you are taking up my spot, and I have to lazily roll you onto your back, but just as I lay into bed, you willingly move closer. I will never understand.

I have no choice but to sigh, because what else can I do? It's been too hard of a day to kick you out, and I haven't enough energy to physically remove you from my bed. I place my spectacles alongside yours, and I am finally able to relax. My muscles almost automatically sink into the mattress and I can see outside my window you left open. The cool night air whisks in beside us, and I am internally grateful you have chosen to lie with me. Now I don't need to concern myself over where you are tomorrow morning.

After murmuring my name, you fall back asleep, this time your head is on my chest. I look down at you. I don't need my glasses to run my hand through your long hair. Clearing your bangs from your face, I can finally have a better look at you. I want to apologize for the way I'd scolded you, but waking you up would never be worth that.

After all, reapers need their sleep and we are no exceptions to the rule. Finally, I decide to just wrap my arm around you and forget about everything wrong with today. I think you can feel my actions, because I can most certainly feel as you try to come closer, more than what is physically possible. How are you not overheating with your work clothes on?

Yes, I will fall asleep next to you soon, but before I do that, I have the urge to run my fingers through your hair one last time. Your long, red hair, and it's impossible for me to see why you've become what you have after all those years. Even I have to admit, off the clock, you're one of the most unique people I will ever meet. And among even the most unique, you are the only one to give me so many chances. More chances than I deserved, more chances to feel, and more chances to succeed.

Honestly, Grell. I may owe you my grades, but you most certainly owe me your employment. Does that make us even?...


End file.
